


Hiding Places

by PenguinPickle



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-09-11 10:34:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8976199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PenguinPickle/pseuds/PenguinPickle
Summary: Rated M for a short discussion of a sensitive subject.
There are a handful of places Aramis likes to hide. Places he thinks no one will think to look for him, places he thinks his brothers could not even find him. Unfortunately for Aramis, Porthos knows of every single one of these places.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I know I've been gone for a while but I will always adore this fandom so I wrote this little one-shot. It ended up being a little darker than anticipated but it does end with fluff (as always).

Porthos wakes to the sound of the door to the room next door opening. He doesn’t open his eyes as he anticipates what will come next. He simply wriggles a little closer to the wall that his bed is against and flings an arm out. He knows that door and the sound it makes all too well and can’t help but feel a small bit of worry blossom in his chest. He reassures himself that it will be alright though, Aramis always feels better after sleeping beside him.

He waits with his eyes still shut, slowly starting to drift off again but keeping his ear tuned to the tiny noises around him. He moves his outstretched arm up to puff up the pillow next to him even though he knows Aramis will not use it, he will opt for sleeping half on top of Porthos anyway. A small smile creeps onto Porthos’ face at the realisation.

He waits a little bit longer and sighs, snuggling deeper under his blankets. For a split second he thinks that he might have locked his door but is sure he didn’t, as he never does. Besides, Aramis would knock anyway and he would hear him trying to turn the handle. He drifts off again for a tiny bit but then blinks his eyes open for the first time at how cold his outstretched arm feels. Aramis is not lying beside him, although Porthos heard his brother’s door open.

Porthos frowns and worry starts to creep in his chest again like a poison ivy. There are three kinds of nightmares Aramis has. He has nightmares about Savoy, that often sometimes include himself and Athos. There are violent dreams where Aramis has no idea where he is but is convinced someone is trying to do him harm. Then there are the other dreams, the ones that Porthos knows linger a little longer, the ones Aramis never speaks of. Over time, Porthos has come to the conclusion that those dreams are of Aramis’ time in war. He discussed it with Athos once, and by their calculation Aramis must have been extremely young when he experienced it, barely a man. He rarely dreams about it but Porthos has witnessed it happen, has seen the light sweat that covers Aramis’ skin which turns pale as he lies dead still in bed. It’s like Aramis is frozen in some far away memory not even his brothers can wake him from.

As Porthos’ eyes adjust to the darkness in his room he realises that there are three possibilities. One, Aramis has changed his mind and quietly gone back to bed. Two, Aramis has somehow managed to fall asleep in the three paces it takes to get to Porthos’ door, which wouldn’t be the first time. Or three, it’s one of those nights, where Aramis has had one of those dreams. Porthos sits up and roles his shoulders to hear them click. He heads to his door once he has climbed out of bed and got dressed and pokes his head outside. There is no sleeping Aramis slumped against the wall so he hopes that the first scenario will be the one which occurred.

Unfortunately, Aramis’ bed is empty and his leathers are nowhere to be found, nor are his weapons. Porthos rubs a hand over his face as his brain quickly runs through all the places Aramis likes to hide. That’s what Aramis usually does after a nightmare like this; he finds a place to hide from his brothers so that he can suffer in silence (as Aramis often likes to do), always using the excuse that he likes exploring the city even though he knows his brothers see right through this lie. So this is what he does, he disappears and comes back hours later to meet the force of two angry and worried brothers.

There are a handful of places Aramis likes to hide. Places he thinks no one will think to look for him, places he thinks his brothers could not even find him. Unfortunately for Aramis, Porthos knows of every single one of these places. So he sets off, out of the garrison and into the streets of Paris to hunt for his brother. He never reveals himself when he finds him, just stands guard silently in the shadows until Aramis moves along. Even though it takes all his willpower to not approach his brother, he doesn’t want Aramis to know he’s there because he would then find a different spot and thus give Porthos another headache.

The first spot, the closest to the garrison, is a small stable. Porthos climbs the wooden ladder as quietly as possible and peeks over the edge of the wood. Aramis is not there and with a disappointed sigh he climbs back down, accidentally spooking some of the horses, and heads out to the second spot.  
Aramis is not there either. Though he rarely comes to this spot when the weather is cold, Porthos makes the climb up the empty building and checks the roof just in case. He’s often found Aramis there gazing up at the stars with a light breeze in his hair and moonlight on his face. It would be a beautiful image in Porthos’ memory if not for the way his brothers hands are always shaking after one of these nightmares.

The temperature seems to drop a little as Porthos makes it to spot number three. He walks down a narrow ally, turns and sees the collection of broken wooden carts. Some have a wheel missing and some have been taken over by termites. Amongst them are large pieces of wood at different angles. It’s the perfect hiding spot really and thats why Porthos hates it. Whenever Aramis chooses this spot he somehow manages to wriggle in tiny little places between wooden beams and Porthos, who is rather a larger person, struggles to find him in there. Porthos sighs and steps over stray pieces of wood to get closer.

Standing on his toes, he strains to see clearly in the darkness but the moonlight illuminates a small piece of blue fabric and he immediately recognises it to be part of Aramis’ scarf. As quietly as he can, he steps over the bits of wood to get closer to his brother all the while trying to remain unnoticed. He manages to see Aramis’ sleeping face and how the scarf caught on the wood above him as his brother had obviously just slid down against the wall and fallen asleep. Porthos sighs with a mixture of relief and frustration. Why did Aramis have to pick this particular spot? He looks around and notices the slight chilly breeze against his legs. Since Aramis is on the ground, in reach of the breeze, Porthos assumes he must surely be getting cold. He quietly undoes his coat and edges as close as he can without waking his brother. He drapes the coat over Aramis’ curled up form and does not fail to notice his brothers trembling hands clutching the other end of the scarf.

Porthos fights the strong urge to run his hand through Aramis’ hair. If he wakes Aramis up, Aramis will know and everything will be ruined. He steps back and cracks a thin piece of wood under his foot. He bights his lip in anticipation as Aramis’ brows furrow in his sleep, but to Porthos’ relief he does not wake. He slowly backs away and turns around, heading to the entrance of the dead end to start his vigil.

The night is cool and time passes slowly. A drunk man stumbles into the alley but Porthos grabs him by the collar of his shirt and shoves him away.

“Didn’t do nothing!” the man slurs in protest.

“On your way then.” Porthos replies, eyeing him as he stumbles away into the darkness.

Porthos is tired, he takes a deep breath and closes his eyes for a few seconds, enjoying the freshness of the night. He hears a footstep beside him and his eyes snap open, his fists clenching automatically, ready to remind another person that they’ve stumbled into the wrong alley. He almost jumps out of his skin when he realises Aramis is standing next to him, wrapped tightly in Porthos’ coat which almost rests on the dirt road.

“Aramis?” Porthos says, his brain trying to come up with a good reason as to why he would just happen to be here as well.

Aramis’ responding smile is so lacking of emotion Porthos wonders if his brother is just sleep walking.

“You look exhausted.” Aramis says, before Porthos can speak.

“Um, I’m a bit tired yeah.” Porthos responds, not quite able to read Aramis’ withdrawn expression.

Aramis suddenly looks guilty and begins to remove the coat off his shoulders. Porthos is too quick for him however, and stops his hand.  
“Keep it on, I don’t get cold very easily.” He says.

They both know its true but Aramis looks guilty again and sighs, tightening the coat around his shoulders.

“Aramis, look I–” Porthos starts, not sure how he is going to explain himself, but gets interrupted.

“No,” Aramis says, “It’s alright. I’m glad you’re here.”

Porthos relaxes and smiles, “You’re not going to have to find a new spot now are you?”

Aramis’ smile this time is genuine, “Porthos, I stopped looking for new hiding places a year ago. I gave up, I knew you would find me every time, no matter what.”

Porthos suddenly starts to feel guilty, “You knew? All along?”

Aramis smiles again, “I’ve known for a while, yes. I always try to be very quiet when I leave but somehow you always know. I feel better, though, when I know you’re here. It’s just… I can’t explain it as easily as I can with the other memories… It’s difficult.”

Porthos gives in to his earlier temptation and ruffles Aramis’ hair softly, “You don’t need to explain anything.”

Aramis shakes his head and finally looks up at Porthos, looks him in the eye, “I do… I want to explain it… it’s just that I can’t, not yet.”

“I understand.”

Aramis smiles briefly but then looks sad, “It was war, it was…”

Porthos wraps an arm around his shoulders. He hates this; seeing his brother fight some internal battle that he cannot help with.

“It’s okay,” He whispers.

Aramis shakes his head again, “I was afraid.”

“You were practically a child,” Porthos answers with determination, “Any man of any age would be afraid anyway… it’s war.”

Aramis looks up at him, “How did you know I was practically a child?”

Porthos cannot hide his guilt, “Athos and I, we… worked it out, roughly. I mean you’re still young.”

Aramis does not look angry, instead he wears a fond expression and looks slightly impressed.

“You two don’t miss a thing do you?” Aramis asks lightheartedly.

“Not one.” Porthos says, then clears his throat, “Do you want to stay here or…?”

“No, a bed would be nice.”

He is sure Aramis is saying that just for Porthos’ own sake but he does not complain as he is sure he would get stuck in that little hiding place Aramis had found.

“Let’s go see if Athos is feeling lonely then ‘ey?”  
Aramis smiles at that and they head back to the garrison. Porthos keeps his arm wrapped tightly around his brother’s shoulders as they walk. He does not fail to notice how Aramis’ hands are still shaking and once they are almost halfway he stops in his tracks and turns to face his brother.

“What’s wrong?” Aramis asks, looking alarmed.

Porthos shakes his head and grabs Aramis’ trembling hands and holds them tightly.

“Porthos-?” Aramis whispers his name, sounding concerned, “What’s the matter?” 

Porthos looks at the ground and wonders if it is a good idea to bring up the subject on his mind, the very idea making his eyes threaten tears.

“I…” He says, not quite knowing how to voice what’s on his mind, “When I was… There was a woman, you see. When I was in the Court. She was a nice lady, she always tried to help the children, always fed them off her own plate… I liked her, very much. Anyway, I always assumed she had been through a lot. She never spoke of a husband or any children though her hair was starting to show signs of grey. She was always smiling the brightest and laughing the loudest, but there was always something hidden beneath her eyes. I didn’t think much of it at the time but I’ve been thinking about her a lot lately. A kind of sadness overtook her. It was always there though, now that I think about it.”

“She sounds like a strong woman,” Aramis says, though the confusion is evident in his voice.

“She was strong, strong like you.” Porthos says, eyes remaining fixed to the ground, hands still tightly clutching Aramis’, “The thing is, I suppose she tried to be too strong, and in helping others forgot to ask for help herself. The sadness that overcame her became stronger and she grew quieter. She stopped smiling as often and one day she just wouldn’t climb out from under her blankets. I used to bring her food but she would barely eat or just turn it away. Eventually, she just withered away. The reason I’m telling you this is the way she looked at me when I brought her food… it was like she, like she wanted to die.”

Finally, he looks up to see Aramis watching him with tears running down his cheeks. Porthos can’t help but grab him and hold him in a tight hug.

“I’m so sorry, Porthos. You should not have had to go through all that… I’m so sorry.” Aramis’ voice is muffled and sad against Porthos’ leathers and he clings to him even tighter.

“It’s not that, mon ami,” Porthos tries to explain, “It’s just that sometimes, though not very often… I’ve wondered if you would ever…”

He can’t get the words out and Aramis pulls away and looks into his eyes, face full of anguish.

“Porthos,” Aramis says, voice very serious, “I would never, ever do something like that to you! I would never leave you like that. I would never try to… i would never try to die.”

Porthos feels a weight leave his shoulders and cups Aramis’ cheek, “Promise?”

“I promise.”

…

They walk back quietly but peacefully and eventually find their way in front of Athos’ door. Porthos opens the door quietly and finds Athos blissfully asleep in his bed.

“He looks so peaceful in his sleep,” Aramis notes.

Porthos grins wickedly at his friend, “Not for long.”

He bends down and slowly slides Athos closer to the wall. Of course, the older musketeer wakes with a groan and blinks his eyes open at him.

“What are you doing?” Athos asks, voice thick with sleep.

“Making space for Aramis and I.” Porthos answers and looks over his shoulder at Aramis, “Go on, climb in, you’re in the middle.”

Aramis happily obliges and slides under the blankets once he has removed his shoes and Porthos’ coat. Porthos climbs in after him and pulls the blankets up higher so that they just cover Aramis’ chin.

“You know this is rather rude,” Athos grumbles, “If you’re going to wake me up in the middle of the night at least bring some wine… or a woman!”

“A woman?” Porthos asks with a chuckle, “What kind of a night visit do you think this is?”

“Not the kind I was hoping for.”

Porthos grins and replies, “Oh shush, I know you like it when we come to keep you company, wine or not.”

Though it’s dark, Porthos just knows Athos is rolling his eyes. He sees Athos’ frame turn and watches, with what illuminance the moonlight provides, how gently Athos tucks the blankets around the already sleeping form of Aramis.

“It is rather late,” Athos says, his tone serious and voice quieter now, “What brings you two here?”

Porthos sighs, “He went on one of his nightly strolls again.”

“Where to this time?”

“My favourite one out of the lot,” Porthos replies sarcastically, “The one where I wonder how I’m going to fish him out in the morning.”

The room goes quiet, though Porthos knows Athos is still awake, can almost feel his deep contemplation.

“Oh by the way,” Porthos adds, “He knows we know, his known for a while now.”

“I always suspected as much after he didn’t find new places,” Athos says.

“Then why bother at all?”

He hears Athos sigh deeply, “I think he has come to accept that he needs us, even if we are present in silence. I think he needs us to sometimes just be there with him, without saying anything.”

“Your perception of people never ceases to amaze me.” Porthos replies.

“Oh don’t Porthos, you’ll make me blush.” Athos says, as dry as the desert, then his tone becomes serious again, “I think one day we’ll all be fine, all of us. Things like this just take time.”

Porthos takes a deep breath, “Sooner rather than later would be better.”

Aramis chooses that moment to wriggle in his sleep. He rolls over and, since the bed is small with the three of them and he has nowhere else to go, he lands gracefully on top of Porthos and gives a soft sigh of bliss.

Athos chuckles and Porthos’ arm covers Aramis’ back automatically. He closes his eyes and finally allows himself to sleep, his thumb moving gently up and down on Aramis’ back unconsciously.

…

Athos lifts the blankets higher until Aramis’ face is completely covered and moves closer to his sleeping brothers. He closes his eyes and allows his body to relax again. Yes, they will be fine, he will make sure of it.


End file.
